I took the day off from writing…
Dying is an art.
to play with skeletons and drink hard cider. See you tomorrow!
*”Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I’ve a call.”-Sylvia Plath
It’s no secret that the Daily Diversion series features visual slices from the non-writing part of my life. Naturally, the photographs are always original Maedezs. I’m making an exception today-a magnificent exception.
My sweet, fierce, and always inspiring momma is on the first day of a five-week solo backpacking journey across Ireland and England. When she confided her vacation plans to me a year ago-a little breathless, but terribly excited-I saw her as I have always seen her, since I was a wee girl: as a passionate, committed, creative, free-spirited, positive woman. Any fearlessness I possess, is because of her. Any single-mindedness. Any ability to see beauty in the finite or the infinite or to see possibility in all things, however graceful or raw. It’s all because of her.
Her adventure starts in Dublin.
Terrace View. Dublin, Ireland.
*”When I die Dublin will be written in my heart.”-James Joyce
Scene from Dublin, Ireland.
Both photos are courtesy of my mom, Kay.
I know, I know. Autumn doesn’t start until the 22nd. It’s still ninety degrees where I live, but I can feel a change. The ceaseless seasonal breeze has returned, bandying leaves about in her dancing wake. I’m excited, but apprehensive; yet I know that summer will be back. When she arrives next year, this is the first thing I will do in wanton celebration.
This…
It only looks like a cardboard cutout.
…is why you haven’t heard much from me since Thursday.
My mom was in town this weekend. I didn’t write anything, but I exchanged ideas with the clouds hanging over the river.
Riverfront view across to Kentucky.
Hardier souls in running shoes were doing drills up and down the stairs. We sat, staring off into the distance or talking. The clouds were almost close enough to pluck from the sky.
Riverfront Steps, Clouds Through the Bridge
We walked for miles, and met some very strange creatures…
A Pig Statue (it’s a Cincinnati thing)
Clouds hovering over the Princess Diana Tiara on Queen City Tower.
Archway, with a Sliver of Skyline in the Distance
One sunburn and several lovely memories later, I’m ready to hit the keyboard again.
A few Sundays ago, I was served ice cream by a dragon and enthralled by the mad ravings of an alchemist. A girl from the Wild West sold me a steampunk dragonfly necklace and faeries tried to lure me into their grotto.
Okay, so the dragon was really a tubby middle-aged man in a crushed velvet costume and green Crocs, the Western heroine was just a sales lady with a bad accent and the faeries…oh, who knows their deal?
Which leaves us with…
Doktor Kaboom!
It was a strange day. Thank goodness for icy cold (hard) cider.
I’m still toiling away at my Colossally Annoying Studio Clean-Out Project, Version 2012. I’m 90 percent there, aesthetically speaking. It took many dedicated hours to reach this point. A mental weight of approximately 999 pounds has been lifted! Unfortunately, the hard work is about to begin: sorting through the papers and notebooks hiding away in drawers and cabinets. Egads, do not get me started on this or I will shrink away in horror from the task. To right my mind, before dutifully getting back to my boring task, I am going to leave you with some cuddly puppy photographs as my Daily Diversion. It beats a progress photo of my studio any day.
Jennifer over at Quirk’n It made me think about crabs and, when I think about crabs, I think about my honeymoon. No, do not go there. We are discussing crustaceans here. Focus, people. This is a clean web-site (well, mostly). Enjoy these photos of my sweet dog, and wedding present, Duncan, trying his mightiest to catch a ghost crab (any ghost crab) on the beach in front of our honeymoon condo. He tried for a week, and came up empty after every effort.
The sunset was almost enough to make romantics of us. I grasped his hand, compelled by nature to some kind of entry-level giddiness. I un-curled my toes and kicked the cool sand; it rained lightly over furtively scrambling ghost crabs. The dog whined on-leash. Bending over, a head pat; standing up on tip-toes, a hug and quick caress. Then one of us broke the sustained peace of the ocean breeze and lapping waves with a bad joke or punch on the arm. Ha, back to normal we went. Quickly, inward, like a collapsing house of cards. Laughing. Unromantic and inappropriate. Wisecracking. Bantering like Grant and Hepburn. Our normal. Content.
Honeymoon Sunset, Mexico Beach/Port St. Joe, Florida. June 2011.
Gazebo in Lewiston, New York/”Summer Magic”
“I’ll make ’em put in a village green, and darling cottages, and a quaint Main Street!”-Sinclair Lewis, Main Street
Gazebo in Lewiston, New York/My original photograph
While The Queen City is a noble and elegant nickname, Cincinnati has long embraced its other, earthier appellation: Porkopolis. In the 19th century, this American jewel was the pig-packing center of the nation. In those days, citizens shared the streets with thousands of hogs. Today, nods to the city’s past are present in many ways, including the Flying Pig Marathon and a proliferation of objets d’pig sprinkled throughout town.They were even present at the Taste of Cincinnati USA, held this past (Memorial Day) weekend.
Taste of Cincinnati Collage
Top left: Revelers enjoying one of the nation’s largest street festivals. In its 34th iteration, it is the longest-standing food festival in the country.
Top right: One of many festive pig statues specially decorated for the event.
Bottom left: The cuts of this pig represent local neighborhoods.
Bottom right: A 95 degree day called for Frozen Margaritas. It was, unfortunately, way too hot to sample most of the food. We settled for pork and chicken tacos from a food truck, a slice of pizza and Irish nachos made with Saratoga chips.
Taste of Cincinnati USA 2012
After 2 hours of downing cold drinks and people watching in the extreme heat, we went home and collapsed into bed, far too tired to function for the rest of the day.
*Photographic proof that I do, indeed, have a life outside of writing and reading and editing.
A Small Press Life: Books. Art. Writing. Life. Tea. 